


pack your cares away

by slightlytookish



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:46:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlytookish/pseuds/slightlytookish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chandler is moving in one week and the pressure of needing to pack everything perfectly is keeping him from packing anything at all (aside from one very tidy box). It's a good thing that Miles has a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pack your cares away

"You look terrible," Miles said, sounding far too cheerful for someone who had just spent the better part of the afternoon sifting through a mountain of rotting rubbish in the hot summer sun. At least their gamble had paid off; they had managed to find a vital piece of evidence that had been eluding them for several frustrating weeks, and the bloodied scrap of fabric was now safely in Dr. Llewellyn's hands for testing. Chandler knew that he ought to feel proud of his team but he couldn't help feeling a little sorry about the state of his suit, which he had already given up as a loss. He didn't think he would ever find a way to get out the stench. 

And yet a ruined suit was the least of his problems, which was probably why he was trying to distract himself by dwelling on it. Miles settled himself in the chair facing Chandler's desk and gave him one of his disturbingly perceptive looks. "All right, what's wrong? And don't tell me it's the case, because we did a good job today." 

"I know." Chandler nudged his mobile into alignment with his watch and pen and frowned. Something looked off, something was not where it should be, but he couldn't quite see what was wrong. He switched the pen and the watch but that didn't seem to help either. His frown grew deeper. "We did very well. Of course."

"It's not about your suit, is it? I'm sure that big stain will come out. It probably just smells worse than it is."

Chandler forced himself not to cringe. "I haven't even thought about the suit," he lied, and then, because he could tell that Miles was rolling his eyes without looking up, he added, "I just have a lot on my mind."

"Like what?"

"It's nothing, Miles, really." Chandler stared hard at his jar of Tiger Balm and willed himself not to reach for it.

"Come on, boss, out with it."

Chandler sighed and finally gave in, reaching for the jar. "I'm moving into my new flat next week."

"I remember. You must love packing. All those boxes waiting to be filled. All the _tidying_."

"That's the trouble," Chandler said, massaging the Tiger Balm into his temples. "If I notice that a shirt isn't folded properly, or that my books aren't in the correct order, I have to unpack everything and start over. Re-sort, re-fold, re-pack until everything is perfect. The whole process is taking longer than I imagined as a result."

"How much have you packed so far?"

"Er... One box?" Chandler switched the position of his watch and mobile and slid the Tiger Balm to sit between them. It still didn't look right and so he switched them back. "Two, actually. I packed some DVDs last night." It was more like half a box, and he'd had to stop when he ran out of DVDs and didn't want to fill up the remainder of the box with books, but it had to count for something, didn't it? Miles didn't need to know just how many times he had repacked those one and a half boxes, either. 

He glanced up hesitantly, feeling ashamed, but Miles merely nodded encouragingly. "Well, you still have time. Now if this was my house we'd need a month just to clear a path in the boys' room, and another year to sort out all the baby things we've managed to acquire." 

Chandler smiled faintly. He knew that Miles was trying to make him feel better but he couldn't put aside his anxiety so easily. The days were slipping by and he had no idea how he was going to finish packing everything in time. He'd never thought that he owned many things – his aversion to clutter took care of that – but he felt overwhelmed whenever he went home and saw how much that he still had to do. 

"Have you thought about hiring someone to take care of the packing?" Miles asked.

"I can't," Chandler said quickly. "The idea of strangers in my home, touching my belongings – it wouldn't work. What if they – no. I can't." His fingers twitched in the direction of the Tiger Balm again.

"All right, easy," Miles said. "It was just a thought." 

A thought that made Chandler feel more anxious than ever. No, he would have to do this on his own, no matter how long it took him to finish. He remembered his ruined suit and felt his mood lift slightly. At least that would be one less thing for him to pack. But then he thought about everything else in his wardrobe, and his cupboards, and his bookshelves, and remembered why he had felt so discouraged. 

"I'll manage it," he said, more to convince himself than anyone else. "A week is plenty of time to get everything sorted." He gave Miles what he hoped looked like a reassuring smile, though it felt more like a grimace. 

"Of course it is," Miles replied, though Chandler had the sinking suspicion that his sergeant was just as doubtful as he felt.

*

Saturday morning found Chandler staring into the depths of his bathroom cupboard, silently willing the soaps and shampoos (and the jars of Tiger Balm, why had he bought so many jars of Tiger Balm?) to pack themselves neatly into a box when the doorbell rang. He straightened up slowly and headed to the door; he wasn't expecting guests (he never was) and he wasn't the sort of person that people just dropped in to see without notice. He squinted through the peephole and was startled to see Miles' face, comically distorted by the glass, looking back at him. 

Chandler opened the door to let him in and then froze, doorknob still in hand, when he saw the rest of his team crowded into the narrow hallway. He couldn't help but assume that something terrible had happened with the investigation, even though none of them were dressed for work and everyone looked surprisingly cheerful considering that they were standing outside their boss' flat on their first day off after a long and busy week.

"Is something wrong?" he said, staring at them in confusion. "Did something happen with the investigation? Why are you all here?" 

"We're here to help you pack and we brought coffee and tea, so are you going to let us in or not?" Miles said, though it was obvious from his expression that he wasn't going to take no for an answer. Chandler noticed for the first time that Kent and Riley were carrying trays of drinks, and he quickly stepped aside to let them pass, followed by Miles, Ed, and Mansell. 

"This is – I didn't expect-" He had to take a deep breath to steady himself. "Miles, did you organise this?"

"Well, I couldn't offer to help, could I? You'd never agree to it in a million years, so it had to be a surprise. Hope you don't mind that I brought this lot with me."

Chandler wasn't sure if he minded – he wasn't at all certain what he felt, really, aside from shock – but everyone was looking at him expectantly and he knew he had to say something. He rubbed at his eyes and wished that he hadn't left all those jars of Tiger Balm in the bathroom. "But it's your day off. I can't ask you to go to so much trouble for me."

"You're not asking, we're volunteering," Ed replied. He had already wandered over to Chandler's bookcase and was eyeing the titles eagerly. "You may entrust your books to my care, Joe. Just find me a few empty boxes and I'll have them sorted in no time."

Chandler didn't exactly relish the thought, having seen firsthand what Ed's idea of sorting the police archives looked like, but he knew that he meant well. They all did. He trusted his team with his life on a daily basis, and he knew he could trust them to help box up his belongings. The trouble was that Chandler never looked for assistance, and he didn't know what to do with it when it arrived in the form of his team, all of them apparently willing to help him with a problem that he should have sorted out for himself already. It was difficult for him to imagine why any of them would willingly want to spend time with him outside of work, let alone spend one of their precious days off doing something as tedious as packing.

"It's really no trouble, sir," Kent said quietly. He nudged a cup of green tea into Chandler's hand and gave him a small but reassuring smile. "We wanted to help." 

Beside him Riley nodded in agreement, and both she and Mansell looked keen to get started. Miles shrugged as if he'd had nothing to do with any of it, though he couldn't hide his proud smile.

Much to his surprise, Chandler found himself smiling in return. "I'm truly grateful. I hardly know what to say."

"Then save your big speeches for later and show us what needs to be done," Miles said.

"That's the trouble," Chandler admitted. "Everything needs to be done."

"We'll cover more ground if we split up," Riley said, as if they were investigating a crime scene. 

"The last time I moved, I just threw my clothes into a couple of bin bags," Mansell said as he glanced around the lounge. He caught sight of Chandler's horrified expression and quickly added, "Not that I'd do the same to yours, sir."

"Don't worry, sir, I'll make sure of it," Riley said as she took Mansell by the arm. "Come on, you're going to help me in the kitchen. There's no chance of you making a mess of pots and pans, is there?"

Chandler spared a worried thought for his dishes and glasses before putting them out of his mind. He knew that Riley would look after them, at least.

Ed was already taking Chandler's books down from the shelves and stacking them in seemingly random piles all over the floor. "This is a fascinating collection, Joe – would you mind terribly if I borrowed a few volumes, after you've settled into your new flat, of course? Did you know that this edition is out of print? And-" He trailed off under the weight of Miles' glare.

"I thought we were packing, not having a book club meeting," he said, still glowering, before heading to the bathroom with an empty box in hand. A moment later Chandler heard Miles grumbling to himself, "Just how many jars of Tiger Balm does one man need, anyway?"

"Should I go with him, sir?" Kent asked. "Or did you want me to help you with something else?"

Before Chandler could answer there was the sound of shampoo bottles falling out of the cupboard with a loud clatter, followed by a lengthy string of profanities. "No, I think we had better leave Miles alone," he said. "I suppose that leaves the bedroom for us, Kent." 

"What?" Kent squeaked.

"Do you mind folding?" Chandler asked, looking at him in concern. Kent had gone very pale and then had turned quite red almost as suddenly, and the result gave him a sort of mottled look. Chandler had never seen anyone react to folding in such a severe way before. "Or would you prefer to help Ed with the books?"

"No, sir, I'd rather help you," Kent quickly assured him, and indeed he did seem oddly pleased at the prospect of helping Chandler pack his clothes. 

Chandler shrugged to himself. Sometimes Kent's moods were difficult to decipher. Still, he was grateful for his assistance – his and everyone else's. Before he started working in Whitechapel he never would have imagined having colleagues that would help him like his team was helping today. 

_They're more than colleagues_ , Chandler found himself thinking a while later, as his wardrobe grew empty whilst he listened to the sound of Riley and Mansell's laughter drifting out of the kitchen, with Ed occasionally reading aloud a random interesting fact that he had discovered in one of Chandler's books – which, inevitably, would be followed almost instantly by Miles shouting at them all to get back to work and Kent trying and failing to hide a grin as he carefully folded yet another shirt. 

_They're friends_ , Chandler decided, and the realisation made him look up from his own folding to meet Kent's smile with one of his own.


End file.
